Follows Righting Our Wrongs
Three Jedi knights. Three padawans. And ten confirmed members of the Bastion resistance, from ringleaders and forgers to mere runners and collaborators. The padawans had cracked the easiest.
Even the forgettable freedom fighters, those without the Force, had put up some fight. They were older, for the most part, they knew the risks of the choice they’d made. They embraced them. Accepted them. With varying amounts of dignity. The unimportant ones didn’t even have much to offer, a few names and locations, but that would suffice to deal the insurgents another solid blow. No, the real treasure had come from the leaders. Faces of the entire network, procedures. And the news of an impending invasion.
Of course, most of them would rather bite off their tongues than talk. Not that it stopped Merian from getting what she wanted.
Today, the Knight-Captain would put the final piece in place. Knight Yix was drugged but conscious, still restrained by stuncuffs and a shock collar. Sleep-deprived. And only starting to realize the depth of his predicament.
Two figures entered the room and Merian shut the heavy door behind them with an ominous thud. Harsh lights flicked on. Their steps echoed all over the empty room. The Nautolan brought a hand to his head. The migraines were just starting.
“Good. You’re awake,” Merian began. A conceited smile. “I apologize for the accommodations. Jedi attempted your rescue, you see.”